


A Puzzle To Find

by MayQueen517



Series: Selkie AU [1]
Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, As you do, Becky the author and podcast host, Christen the Selkie, F/F, Gift Giving, Selkie AU, Selkies, Tobin the Lighthouse Keeper, fake quotes from fake sources, playing fast and loose with literally everything, selkie culture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 02:23:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20900084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayQueen517/pseuds/MayQueen517
Summary: Seal Rock is a town of barely concealed secrets, one of them being selkies and other merfolk who live in the cove that Tobin keeps watch over in her lighthouse. Tobin has always chalked this secret up to tall tales until she goes overboard and is saved by a mysterious stranger.Who is she and can Tobin see her again?===Tobin thinks about Lindsay's recount of the woman who carried her out of the ocean and up to her cottage. She thinks about the only words the woman spoke to Lindsay, telling her to call for help.She knows almost everyone in Seal Rock, save for this woman. It's maddening.**"Well," Lindsay says, barely containing her glee, "if you're on the third gift, that's good!""How is that good?" Tobin asks, dismayed."Means she likes you back," Lindsay says triumphantly.





	A Puzzle To Find

**Author's Note:**

> Um, hello!
> 
> So. The Women's National Team, huh.
> 
> I haven't written RPF in literal years but I've had this idea bugging me for weeks, so I decided to bite the bullet and get it out. 7000 words later and here we are. I'm really fond of this fic and this universe - I've got ideas about others in this fic but for now, I wanted to focus on Christen and Tobin.
> 
> I've never written any of these women before, so be gentle with me. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Title from the Phillips Phillips song 'Tell Me A Story'!

There's someone in her cottage.

It's the first thing Tobin thinks when she drifts back to wakefulness. She feels heavy, not only from the blankets piled on top of her, but heavy from her own core. Tobin shivers, pushing herself to sitting. She takes stock of herself, hearing the roar of water trapped in her ears. She grimaces at the wet clothes she's still wearing as she moves to stand. Wobbling on her feet, Tobin sinks back to the couch. She swallows hard, wincing at the sharp feeling that makes her head pound. She coughs hard; a bark of sound that leaves her sounding like the seals outside.

From the kitchen, she hears soft humming that she had first registered when she came to.

She has a vague memory of a rogue wave, sweeping her over the side of the boat. It comes in flashes: kicking for the surface but not knowing where the surface was. Kicking off her shoes to lose the extra weight. Lungs and eyes burning both from the cold and the salt. Her body giving out, trying to find air in any way, even from the water all around her. She gasps hard, pulling from a memory of strong hands wrapping around her biceps to haul her up and out. She looks down at her own arm, pushing the sleeve up. She presses a finger to the dusky marks that will darken into a bruise tomorrow.

Tobin pulls herself to standing, blanket falling back to the couch as she hobbles to the door of the kitchen.

The oven is on and cracked, directing the warm air into the room. There's a mass of brown fabric that Tobin's eyes glance over, unable to focus. The woman has her back to the doorway, humming. She opens cabinet after cabinet, searching for something - mugs, Tobin thinks. Tobin finds herself studying the slope of the woman's neck. It slides from her neck to a strong, exposed shoulder. She opens the cabinet beside the fridge, finding Tobin's mugs. Tobin watches her hitch an oversized blanket closer as if it were a cloak as she pulls down a second mug.

"Hello," Tobin croaks, watching as the woman turns around, meeting Tobin's eyes, surprised. Tobin's breath catches, her heart stuttering. She's beautiful; other-worldly beautiful, to be honest and Tobin can't think. Outside a storm ravages the coast and inside the cottage, a storm steals Tobin's breath. The woman's hair is curly, piled on top of her head with what looks like one of Tobin's own hair ties. Her tan skin stands out against the faded blanket as she pads over to Tobin in the doorway.

"You shouldn't be up," she says, fingertips ghosting over Tobin's cheek. Tobin doesn't know if she imagines the burn of the contact or not.

"What happened?" Tobin asks, voice cracking as the woman in front of her looks away. Guilt or something stronger seems to pull the woman's eyes back to Tobin's own.

"You died," she says, soft and sad. She squeezes Tobin's hand in a moment of comfort, drawing back . Tobin feels as if she should be more shocked by that news; but all she can remember is giving into the need for air. The thought of the cold water rushing into her mouth is enough to make her shudder in her wet clothes. She looks over to the woman, remembering the strong hands around her biceps again.

"You saved me," Tobin rasps.

"It's what we do," she responds, soft and sweet. Tobin clears her throat in the momentary silence, the sound rattling as she clears it again.

"Thank you," Tobin says, the rasp turning into a tickle she can't fight. The coughing fit wracks her frame and she tries to gasp in a breath as the woman steps over, guiding her back to the couch. Tobin blinks up at her, tears streaming down her face; she focuses on the line of her shoulder and collarbone.

"Help will be here soon," she says softly, running thin fingers over Tobin's forehead. Her fingertips are cool and rough, dried out from the salt, Tobin thinks. "Sleep, for now," she says, fingertips drifting over Tobin's brow.

Tobin rasps on a breath, a gasp that she didn't know was sitting in her chest. She reaches up and grabs the woman's wrist in a light grip; this close, the woman smells like the ocean. She smells like early morning rounds of the cove where Tobin lives and it's an unexpected comfort. The woman turns her hand, curling their fingers together in comfort as Tobin's cheeks heat up.

"What's your name?" Tobin asks as the woman's face smooths in surprise. A soft smile crosses over her face and it's as breath-taking as Tobin's first glimpse of her.

"Christen," she says, drifting the backs of her fingers over Tobin's cheek. Tobin smiles to herself, eyes slipping shut as she lets out a hum, intending to introduce herself.

She falls asleep with cool fingertips pushing her hair out of her face.

===

"...but it seems that selkies are the most mysterious of inhabitants. The folklore that surrounds them is limited and often out-dated. For example, the question is often asked, where did selkies come from? The answer to that is far more complex than expected, but one thing is for sure: we have a few ideas about where they ended up. And Seal Rock is proof of that."  
_Here and Everywhere: The Search for the Selkies of Seal Rock_  
Becky Saurbrunn

===

Tobin spends a week in bed, wracking coughs that shake the bed frame and the meds that leave her sleepy. She drives into town, helping where she can before she's shooed on back home. The entire town is aware that she nearly died but only Tobin's closest friends know that she actually did. Tobin slides into a booth in the corner, cradling a mug of tea as Allie looks up, smirking.

"Aw, Pookie, you look so upset," she teases as Tobin rolls her eyes. She sips on the tea to prove a point as Allie snickers. Despite this place being their favorite, Tobin feels cheated at receiving only tea. Tobin clears her throat roughly, grimacing.

"I was hoping for some coffee," Tobin says, resigned. Her voice is still not back to normal, which Julie assured her was normal on her last visit to the doctor's office. Allie rolls her eyes.

"Coffee is for people who don't sound like lifelong smokers," Allie says as Tobin scoffs. The tea is soothing but bland and Tobin doesn't want to admit that it feels better on her still raw throat.

"I'm still so tired," Tobin says, trying to not think of the morning strolls along the cove. She'd deny thinking about all the stories about selkies she's heard since arriving. She doesn't think of haunting, beautiful sea-glass-green eyes. And she definitely hasn't been thinking of strong shoulders and gentle hands.

"Harry, you died. You're allowed to be tired," Allie says bluntly as Tobin blinks. They share a snort of laughter as Tobin shakes her head.

"Have you guys heard anything about the woman who saved me?"

"Nothing else, other than what Lindsay told you," Allie says, sipping at her coffee. She swipes her fingers across her phone, sending a text as Tobin watches her. Tobin thinks about Lindsay's recount of the woman who carried her out of the ocean and up to her cottage. She thinks about the only words the woman spoke to Lindsay, telling her to call for help.

She knows almost everyone in Seal Rock, save for this woman. It's maddening.

"What's that look for?" Allie asks, watching her. Tobin toys with the knitted mug warmer, twisting the button one way as far as she can before twisting it back. She thinks about the shell that she'd left on her table. The whorls of the conch shell pristine, unlike so many of the broken shells that wash up after a storm.

"It'll sound stupid," Tobin says, brushing her off.

"Okay, and?" Allie scoffs, leaning forward. "Har, if I can handle that some mystery woman saved your life, I think I can handle whatever theory you have about her."

Tobin knocks back some of her tea, grimacing at the heat and wishing it was coffee.

"I think she was a selkie," Tobin says, holding her breath. Her face flushes and she can feel the prickle of sweat starting as the silence stretches on. Allie watches her before draining her coffee in one fell swoop.

"Well, you should go talk to Becky then," Allie says, knocking her knee into Tobin's with a smile.

===

The bookstore sits on the corner; a ten minute walk from Tobin's own cottage. Becky's owned the bookstore for longer than Tobin has lived in Seal Rock. Inside are areas for research and areas to enjoy a new book. Tobin once heard Emily compare it to a library with better music. Tobin thinks of that as she pushes the door open.

The store is open and airy, but still seems small and private. It reminds Tobin of being at the Maritime Academy, the common area where they'd all meet before dinner. Fliers for punk shows, protests, and town hall meetings litter the walls and Tobin smiles to see them.

Megan's lavender hair stands out like a beacon as she looks up at the bell. Megan is intense and comforting, a study in contradictions. She laughs easier than she gets angry, something that Tobin appreciates. Tobin wouldn't call them close but there's something comforting about Megan. Moving to Seal Rock had been a rough, at first. It had been Megan and her girlfriend, Sue, who had shown her the ropes, both for the lighthouse and the town of Seal Rock.

"Tobes!" she calls out, excited as Tobin slips inside. Megan shoves some papers to the side, dropping the stack of books in her arms as she bounds over.

"Hey, Pinoe," Tobin rasps out, coughing hard into her scarf as Megan's face crinkles.

"Jesus, you still sound like shit," Megan says, pulling Tobin into a quick, warm hug.

"Wow, you're so good to me," Tobin deadpans roughly as Megan screws her face up in apology. Tobin shrugs, letting Megan's idle chatter lead her through the books and back to the seating area. Magazines scatter themselves as if staking a claim on the table. Tobin moves a legal pad from the chair to the stack, settling in with a soft groan. Tobin can hear soft hip-hop through the store, only loud enough to notice.

"Tobin?" Megan asks, a smile tugging on her lips that lets Tobin know it's not the first time she's missed her name.

"Yeah, sorry. I've been kind of," Tobin pauses. It stretches on but Megan waits for her to finish, "I've been out of it," Tobin finishes, weak and with a shrug. Megan nods, hauling herself up to sit on the counter.

"You look better," Megan offers as Tobin shrugs, sinking into the chair. She braces her feet on the table where there's nothing in the way.

"Thanks, I guess?" Tobin says, readjusting her beanie out of nerves. Megan picks up a pen, twirling it with her fingers as the song changes to one of the local indie bands. Tobin recognizes it, smiling as Megan hums along for a moment.

"So, how's lighthouse life?"

"Oh, you know. The more things change and all that," she says as Megan snorts, nodding. Tobin shifts in the chair, looking over at Megan.

"What do you know about, um," Tobin clears her throat, pushing her glasses up on her face, "selkies. I've been wondering about them."

"Do you want, like, general stuff?" Megan asks as if she knows the answer already, swinging her feet like a child. Tobin knows that Becky's upstairs, recording or editing an episode of her podcast. Her podcast, _Of Land and Sea_ is one of Tobin's favorites and the town claims it as their own.

"'Cause if it's general? I'm your girl. But if you want anything else, you need Becky," Megan says.

"I need to talk to Becky," Tobin says after a long pause.

"Is this about the super hot lady who carried you out of the sea like some kind of Harlequin novel? 'Cause, dude: hot," Megan says, grinning. Tobin huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes.

"How do you even know she was hot?"

"Lindsay told me," Megan says, shrugging. Tobin shakes her head, trying to fight back the grin. It had been Lindsay's boat that Tobin had gone overboard on, slipping beneath black, cold water. Tobin sometimes wonders who's scream she heard - her own or Lindsay's.

"Lindsay couldn't have seen that much," Tobin protests as Megan hops down from the counter. She offers a hand to Tobin, pulling her up from the soft confines of the chair.

"She didn't, but I bet you did," Megan says grinning. Tobin sighs, rolling her eyes as she follows Megan to the stairs.

"It wasn't something I exactly considered," Tobin says finally as Megan's face softens. She squeezes Tobin's shoulder, firm and easy.

"Becky's upstairs editing. Go see what she has to say," Megan says, bussing a quick kiss to Tobin's cheek as she bounds back into the bookshop. Tobin climbs the stairs, breath rattling as she fights the urge to cough. The door at the top is cracked open and Becky is waiting for her.

"Heard you coming," Becky says sympathetically, pulling Tobin into a light hug.

"I think everyone can hear me coming right now," Tobin says, hugging her back. Becky laughs, stepping back so Tobin can sit.

"Do you have time?"

"To talk about selkies? All the time," Becky says, sitting down in her computer chair. She pushes her hair over one shoulder and stretches out in the chair, socked feet crossing at the ankle. Tobin kicks off her own shoes, settling on the small couch across from Becky. It reminds her of talking about storm patterns and weather trends for Becky's book.

"How do I know if I saw a selkie?" Tobin asks as Becky hums in thought, rolling her chair over the thin rug. It's ratty with age and Tobin finds herself nudging at the frayed edge as Becky comes back with a couple of books.

"Well, the most obvious way is if you see their seal-skin but I'm not sure that's helpful for you." Becky says, pushing her hair back as she flips through one of the books on her lap. Tobin thinks back to that night and what she had been unable to look at for longer than a moment. It had been as if she wasn't supposed to see it in the first place. She thinks about the smell of wet fur and brine that had clung to Christen.

"They don't carry markings in human form?" Tobin asks, already knowing the answer as Becky shakes her head. Becky glances at her, curious, as Tobin thinks back to green eyes and dark hair.

"None that I've heard of," Becky says, handing over the book as Tobin skims through the familiar folklore.

"You sound like you've met one," Tobin jokes flatly. Becky blinks at her, confusion shining over her face before it clears into a smile.

"All folklore carries a hint of truth in it, Tobin. Some lore has more than others," Becky says, cryptic, as Tobin blinks. Her cheeks heat up and Tobin turns her gaze back to the book in her lap. Tobin looks over the illustration in front of her as she leans back in her seat, sighing.

"Folklore from Seal Rock is different than most other folklore." Becky says, adopting the tone that everyone likes to call her 'Professor Broon voice'. "And a big reason for that is because of the location. Coastal areas tend to have their own folklore - usually for those who get lost at sea or even from the town itself. But Seal Rock is different. Seal Rock's residents have a conviction about the people who may or may not live in the cove or across the bay."

"She said it's what 'we' do," Tobin says suddenly. Becky blinks at her, tilting her head, curious. Tobin coughs, wincing, "She told me I died. In the water," Tobin clarifies needlessly. Becky's gasp is soft but Tobin hears it nonetheless.

"She saved you," Becky says as Tobin nods.

"When I said that to her, she told me that's what they do."

Tobin and Becky stare at each other for a moment before Becky lets out a shaky sigh. The only sound in the room is the music from downstairs and the hum of Becky's computer. Tobin scrubs a hand over her face, knocking her glasses off and into her lap.

"When I woke up, she was gone. Julie and Zack said that Lindsay had called them, almost in hysterics. She told them that she'd been told to call. Lindsay never said _who_ told her to call. And yesterday morning, when I went on my usual patrol of the cove, I found this." Tobin says, pulling her phone out of her pocket, scrolling to the conch shell sitting on the dock. It's the size of both of Tobin's fists, smooth and beige that verges on pink. The inside is shiny and bright pink that draws the eye no matter what the angle is.

Tobin had taken it with her without thinking.

"Did you take it?" Becky asks as Tobin blinks at her. She can feel the flush starting on her neck, creeping over her cheeks as Becky starts to hide a smile.

"I mean. It was too nice to just leave there," Tobin tries to justify as Becky reaches over, taking the books back and squeezing Tobin's knee.

"I guess," Becky says, a slow smile starting, "you have to decide if you met a selkie or not."

===

It isn't a matter of meeting a selkie or not, Tobin thinks later. It's a matter that whoever saved her is someone who's familiar enough with the town. Someone who may have made visits before, Tobin thinks.

She steps through the door of her cottage, immediately seeing the conch shell on the table. Hanging her coat, scarf, and hat up, she kicks her boots off. She walks over to the table, picking up the shell as she flops onto her couch. She turns the shell over in her hands, looking at the pristine inside. It's smooth and cool to the touch and Tobin sighs softly, thinking of the line of a shoulder and a sweet smile.

Christen isn't the portrait of a selkie in Becky's books; she's neither sad, nor pale. She doesn't seem trapped out there and she trusted Tobin enough to bring her seal-skin in. If she is, in fact, a selkie, Tobin reminds herself. Tobin thinks of tan, smooth skin and her thumb ghosts over the edge of the conch shell.

Tobin busies herself in the cottage; she throws all her blankets into the wash. She tries to distract herself from the memory of cool fingers and a soft smile.

It works for a few hours.

It's late when she folds the blankets, exhaustion thrumming like a plucked string. Sitting on her couch, Tobin can see part of the cove outside. The ocean is calm after the week's storm. Debris has been washing up all week, pieces of boats crashing onto the shore. Tobin thinks about asking Lindsay to come help with clean-up again.

Tobin watches the rocks where the seals gather in the morning, catching the sun as part of their own routine. They're empty for now, though Tobin thinks she might see a flash of something swimming around in the cove. She stands, walking to the window. The moon is almost full, shining down on the water like paint on a canvas.

She sees the flash again, not the silver of a seal's body slipping through the surf this time. Her breath catches, painful and stuttering as she jams her feet into her shoes and drags her coat on. The conch shell goes into her pocket, dragging one side of the jacket down. Tobin hesitates, looking back through the window, seeing another flash. Tobin knows what a seal's body looks like sliding through the waves. She knows that whatever is swimming in the cove isn't a seal - or at least, isn't always a seal.

Beside the door, where her keys usually land, is a dish of her favorite finds. Tobin pushes her hand into the bowl, finding the partial nautilus shell that had washed up last year. The hurricanes always bring the best shells to the beaches. The mother-of-pearl shines and she hopes it's an appropriate exchange. The door bangs behind her as she jogs down to the beach, eyes trained on the flashing shine of the moonlight.

"What are you doing out here, Tobin?" she asks herself in a mutter as she steps out of her shoes and stepping onto the sand, hissing. Her heart thuds as she slips a hand into her jacket to hold onto the conch shell for comfort. Her other hand clutches the nautilus shell as she pads down the beach where waves are lapping the sand.

"This is stupid," she says in a normal voice, trying to find the silver flashes that had been so compelling. She relaxes her eyes, watching for some sign that she hadn't been imagining things. She stays out until she starts to shiver, cheeks bitten by the wind. Her chest rattles with an impending coughing fit as she watches the waves. She pads back to her shoes, a shiver wracking her shoulders. Tobin dusts her feet off, pushing them into her shoes as she walks to the small, mostly rotten dock nearby.

On the end, she can see where she had found the conch shell and Tobin doesn't know what inspires her to do it. She crouches down, looking out over the water and sighing.

"Thank you for the shell." she says, feeling ridiculous, "I don't have anything interesting to offer but this. So. Um. Thank you."

She sets the nautilus shell down, hoping the moonlight catches the mother-of-pearl. Tobin looks over the water, hoping to see any sign that someone's listening.

"Feel free to come knock on the door," she says impulsively, rising and dusting herself off.

Tobin walks back to her cottage, struggling against the coughing fit. It's a short walk from the front door to the bathroom, shedding clothes as she goes. She takes her meds, coughing a few more times as she climbs into the shower. The hot water soothes the tight feeling in her chest that makes her breath trip right into a cough. She climbs out of the shower and makes her way to her room, yawning as she towels off.

She's putting lotion on when she chances a glance out of the window of her room. Tearing her gaze away from the quieting bay, she pulls on her pajamas. She wonders if the shell is still there on the dock, unsure what she wishes would happen if it wasn't.

She drifts off, thinking of silvered bodies in blue-black water and what it would be like to see them up close.

===

"Gift-giving is a universal concept to signify some sort of courtship. This is true for both humans and the animal kingdom; giving a gift is a glimpse into what a partner can provide. The animal kingdom sees this most often in the form of food or shelter. Either signifying to their chosen mate that they can provide both. But many cultures - both humans and animals - often engage in costly, but ultimately useless, gifts. One could argue that engagement rings are the highest version of this."

(Laughter from audience)

"The end result to all this is simple, both with humans and animals. The acceptance of a gift - useful or not - is typically signifies courtship acceptance."  
_Courtship Rituals: On Land and Sea lecture series transcript_  
Becky Sauerbrunn

===

Tobin wakes up from a dream about the ocean, stunned by the dim, pre-dawn light. She comes awake all at once, as if she had blinked the night away. Sitting up in bed, she checks her phone and groans at having woken up before her alarm.

She dresses quickly; comfortable jeans and a comfortable henley that's seen better days. She jams her legs into rain boots for her morning walk and last night's jacket. The conch shell bangs against her leg and Tobin pulls it out of her pocket.

In the morning light, the smooth interior gleams. Tobin finds herself smiling as she drops it back into her pocket. She pulls her hair back into a low ponytail and she pours some coffee into a travel mug. The sun has started to rise, burning off the morning fog as she steps out of her cottage. Tobin sips her coffee as she strides through the sand and the sea grass. She makes notes and takes photos of areas that need a reseed. It's a quiet morning, a welcome respite from the previous week that Tobin enjoys. In the distance, she can hear the seals calling to each other.

She feels like her old self again, healthy and happy to be at a lighthouse that most others would hate. Tobin hasn't ever been in the habit of rushing her morning rounds. She prefers to take her time with them except for now. She finds herself striding past the marina where she often stops to chat with Lindsay. She can hear Lindsay calling her name as she walks towards the dock from the night before.

Tobin doesn't know what she expects to find. Nerves cause her stomach to flutter as she gets closer. The shell she had left the night before is gone.

It's useless to get her hopes up, she tries to tell herself. The ocean might be calmer than it had been earlier in the week, but a wave could have still taken the shell away.

She steps out onto the deck, kneeling down to see a series of small glass globes resting in knotted twine. They're antique fishing weights, brilliant colors shining through the twine. She's seen them in various antique shops around Seal Rock and her breath catches as she pulls them closer. There's a red one no larger than a marble and the largest still is a blue one, the size of a softball.

Footsteps behind her make her turn to meet Lindsay's raised eyebrows, sheepish. Lindsay pushes her hair back, a grin starting to brighten her friend's face.

"So, looks like you have some things to tell me?" Lindsay asks, joking as Tobin laughs, breathless. For the first time in days, her breath doesn't catch as she hefts the weights and netting off of the dock.

"What's there to tell?"

"Start with the hot naked lady," Lindsay suggests, waggling her brows, "and then catch me up."

"What do you know about selkies?" Tobin asks, leading Lindsay through the sea grass. Lindsay's silent as they walk and Tobin chances a glance over to her, taking in her scrunched face. Lindsay pushes open Tobin's door, holding it open for Tobin to slip through.

"I know that they're, like, Seal Rock's worst kept secret," Lindsay says finally as Tobin blinks. Tobin sets the weights down on her table, draping the netting over the chairs there.

"Wait, so there's actual selkies in Seal Rock?"

"Tell me you didn't _just_ realize that Seal Rock has selkies," Lindsay says, a grin starting to break onto her face. Tobin blinks, staring at her. She thinks back over the way that the locals would talk about the selkies and the merfolk. Stories that Tobin had always thought of as being tall tales.

"Lindsay, did you know it was a selkie when she rescued me?" Tobin asks intently. Lindsay ducks under Tobin's arm, grabbing the half and half out of the fridge with a shrug.

"I mean, I figured? She was completely naked, except for something around her shoulders and she was carrying you like you were a kid. I thought you knew!" Lindsay says, snorting a laugh when Tobin makes an undignified groan.

"How many people know?" Tobin asks.

"Mostly locals," Lindsay says, sipping on her coffee. "If someone doesn't know, we don't tell 'em. Doesn't seem right."

"Oh my god, everyone but me knew," Tobin says, horror dawning. Lindsay shrugs, sitting down at the table with her hands curled around her mug.

"Tobin, every single fisherman or boat owner in Seal Rock has a story about some impossible rescue. And, yeah, sometimes it doesn't work out. But they've always been here," Lindsay says as Tobin stares at her in shock.

"And this is normal?" Tobin asks, incredulous.

"Why wouldn't it be?" Lindsay asks, meeting her eyes. Tobin opens and closes her mouth a few times, shocked. She sinks into a chair and pulls the conch shell out of her jacket. She sets it on the table and stares at it, aware that her breathing has gone shallow.

"Tobin, selkies settled Seal Rock. That's why it's this, like, terribly kept secret. We all kind of thought you knew."

"Well, I didn't," Tobin says, bitter. She looks out over the cove, watching the waves roll in as the seals haul themselves onto the rocks to sun. "I feel like the butt of a joke."

"Nah, that's not how we see it. And obviously, the selkies don't either, since you have that," Lindsay says, motioning to the conch shell.

"I found it on the dock. Didn't seem right to leave it," Tobin says, meeting Lindsay's eyes. Lindsay blinks, mouth dropping open.

"Oh, man. It's like you swapped numbers with her!" Lindsay says, excitedly as Tobin chokes on her coffee, coughing hard through it as she mops herself up.

"Does it mean something that I accepted it?"

"Means you're interested," Lindsay says, beaming. Tobin thinks back to the nautilus shell the night before and her eyes drift over to the fishing weights. She thinks about Christen selecting the right colors and what they could mean.

"Wait. Did you give something back?" Lindsay asks as Tobin nods.

"I gave her - Uh, I left a shell on the dock last night, and these were there this morning." Tobin says, stomach twisting as she thinks about the implications. She doesn't think about her last relationship, about the broken heart that drove her to Seal Rock. She thinks, instead, about a beautiful woman who saved her life from the ocean and brought her back. A woman who's been leaving her gifts.

"Well," Lindsay says, barely containing her glee, "if you're on the third gift, that's good!"

"How is that good?" Tobin asks, dismayed.

"Means she likes you back," Lindsay says triumphantly.

===

A week later finds herself no closer to an idea of what happened to her. Tobin drives into town and finds her way to the welcome center like she had years ago when she first came to Seal Rock.

She pulls into a space and steps in, hearing an argument from the back as she hears Emily laughing.

"No, absolutely not. Mildred does not belong out here. My plant, my rules," Kelley says as Emily laughs harder. Tobin leans against the door, watching Kelley hug the potted plant closer.

"Look, Kel, the plant needs sunlight. That's what the guy at the store said."

"Mildred is delicate!" Kelley protests, laughing as Tobin snorts, "Don't you laugh at me either. Mildred and I have been through a lot."

"Like what? The series finale of _Cat Detective_?" Emily asks as Kelley growls and throws a stress ball at her. Emily cackles at this, ducking behind the counter.

"Tobin, I'm sorry you have to witness this," Kelley says, carefully placing the potted plant out of the way.

"What? How much you like _Cat Detective_?" Tobin asks as Kelley swats her arm. Tobin snickers, hopping up to sit on the counter of the welcome center. Kelley sits near the plant - Mildred, apparently - and kicks her feet into Tobin's feet.

"How've you been?"

"Better," Tobin says, fiddling with the ring on her index finger. She twists it a few times and doesn't miss the loaded look Emily and Kelley share, "What was that look for?"

"Lindsay says you spend a lot of time at the dock," Emily says as Tobin sighs. She resists the urge to touch the long since healed bruises on her arm. She had watched the bruises fade and part of her misses them.

"I'm just trying to see what's salvageable," Tobin says, knowing it for the weak excuse it is. Emily coughs on a skeptical noise, arching an eyebrow. Her and Kelley share another look before Emily locks up the Welcome Center. Tobin remembers when Emily and Kelley first met, Emily as a tourist who'd been unable to stay away. Kelley, recovering from her own rescue and Tobin thinks of the ways Kelley's story matches her own.

"Listen, ask what you want. No judgement," Kelley says finally. Tobin meets her eyes for a long moment. Kelley shrugs, "I heard around town that you've been asking about selkies. As much as I love hanging out with you, I figured you'd ask me directly sooner than later."

"What can you tell me?"

"I can give you the trends I tracked back ten years and we can swap survivor stories," Kelley says with a grin. Tobin sighs on a laugh, tossing an arm around Emily's shoulders easily after she slides off of the counter.

"Well, lead the way," Tobin says.

===

Tobin settles in for the evening, ready for research. She changes into her favorite ratty sweats, putting her glasses on. She digs into Kelley's trend reports for the area, cross-referencing them with weather reports. Her printer works overtime, printing out maps of the bay. She sets up rescue reports to also print out, caught up in research like when she was at the Maritime Academy.

She thinks about late night drills and navigating by constellations. Tobin had been top of her class before most of her life had imploded. A failed relationship right before the end of term and Tobin had barely managed a passing grade. Something that had once been a promising career turned into 'don't call us, we'll call you.'

But it lead her to Seal Rock, the Lighthouse advertising for a new keeper in the common area at the Academy. Tobin thinks about this small town welcoming her into the fold, assuming she already knew the town's secrets.

The printer sounds through the cottage as she climbs the stairs, checking the weather report on her phone. It's supposed to be foggy for part of the night and a quick glance outside shows the fog starting to roll in. Although many boats don't come to Tobin's cove or even to Lindsay's marina, it's worth the peace of mind. The light flashes over the rocks and Tobin finds herself searching the water for any sign of life.

Tobin wonders if she'd recognize a selkie from that of a natural born seal. She scoffs at herself, turning on the radar and syncing it to her phone to alert her if any boat gets too close. There's a simple peace to it all as she descends back down the stairs.

Nights like tonight are lonely, though. She thinks of having someone else to talk to in the nearly silent cottage. She thinks of cooking dinners for her partner and her friends back in the Academy. Tobin shakes her head at the thought, sitting at the table, looking over the printouts.

Ready with a highlighter and the radar on her phone, she starts comparing trends and rescues. She loses herself to it for only a few moments until there's a knock on the door. Tobin shoves back from the table, hitching her sweatpants up and padding over to the door. She pulls the door open and it's like a lightning bolt flashing through the sky because there she is.

Christen.

"Uh," Tobin says, vaguely aware of the mess behind her. The reality of having Christen in front of her is overwhelming all at once. Christen cocks her head to the side and smiles, shifting the bag on her shoulder.

"You said to feel free to knock," she explains. Tobin feels dumbstruck, unable to move, like the time she ran into the electric fence as a kid. She remembers the way her hand had tingled for what felt like hours and how her heart had raced for a few moments.

"I. Uh. Yeah," Tobin stutters, clearing her throat as Christen's eyes brighten. They shine in amusement and Tobin tries to ignore the heat of her cheeks. "Um, come in?" she asks, stepping aside.

Christen hums softly and Tobin is reminded of weeks prior, drifting off to sleep to the same soft humming. She steps inside and Tobin doesn't know what to do from here.

"You're. You're here," Tobin says plainly.

"I am," Christen replies, a little grin appearing as she shakes her hair out of her face. It's wet, dripping all over Tobin's rug and Tobin springs into action, shutting the door .

"Um, here. Let's get you a towel. I guess wet hair isn't fun, selkie or not. But I mean, maybe it is for you? I just thought you might like a towel," Tobin says, trailing off. Embarrassment paints her cheeks crimson as Christen bites her lower lip, eyes shining. Tobin reaches over the door to the bathroom, grabbing a clean towel and handing it over.

"Wet hair is something you deal with," Christen says pragmatically, "but it isn't my favorite," she says, smiling, as if she's imparting secrets. Tobin's captivated by her more and more and she despairs of saying the right thing as she clears her throat.

"Yeah. I don't, uh. Like it either," Tobin says, grimacing as Christen dries her face and isn't looking. She drags her hand over her face, righting her glasses and clearing her throat.

"Would you like something to change into?" Tobin offers. Christen pulls her bag off of her shoulder, smiling.

"I brought something, if you don't mind," she says. Tobin blinks and wordlessly offers her the bathroom. Christen slips past her, the briny scent of the ocean filling the space between them as she shuts the door.

Tobin walks back to the kitchen, looking over the pile of papers. She tidies them into a neat pile, adding the last print-outs to the pile. Tobin picks everything up, padding over to her desk, just out of the kitchen. The highlighters and pens go into the Maritime Academy mug and the papers get tucked into a drawer for safe keeping.

Turning towards the kitchen, she watches Christen step out of the bathroom, bag dangling from her fingers as she comes into the kitchen. Her baggy Stanford shirt seems incongruous with the myths of selkies that Tobin's heard but she pushes that away. Tobin follows her into the kitchen, standing at the sink as she watches Christen.

"Thank you," Christen says, smiling. Tobin swallows hard, her throat clicking as she stammers out a response.

"Do you always carry a bag?" Tobin asks as Christen hangs it on the chair behind her. Christen laughs softly, face brightening.

"I try to," she says. "I don't always remember to when I hear about lighthouse keepers going out on a boat during a storm," she teases. Tobin feels her face color as she bustles around the kitchen. She straightens stuff here and there, wanting to keep her hands busy.

"It wasn't like I meant to go overboard, you know," Tobin says, putting mugs away into the cabinet, for lack of something better to do.

"Oh, I'm aware. We were watching. But one boat wasn't worth your lives," Christen says, as Tobin watches her reflection in the kitchen window. She looks at ease at Tobin's table, fingers tracing the rings left behind by sweating cups. Tobin turns, catching her attention.

"True," Tobin allows, "But that one boat could be the difference between a successful tourist season or debt for Lindsay." Tobin pushes away from the sink, sitting in the chair closest to Christen.

"Do you open your lighthouse up for tourist season?" Christen asks, stretching her legs out to cross them at the ankle. Tobin can't tear her eyes away for a moment, the yoga pants tight against the muscles of Christen's calves. Her bare feet nudges Tobin's legs and that electric fence feeling jolts through her at the contact. Christen rests her arm on the table, propping her head on her head. There's a smile teasing at the corners of Christen's mouth.

"Um. No. Lindsay tells me I should."

"You should," Christen says, reaching over to fix the long sleeve of Tobin's shirt, fingertips cool and soft against the skin of her wrist. Tobin's stomach flutters and she holds her breath for a moment.

"You didn't argue when I called you a selkie," Tobin says suddenly. Christen's fingers stop moving, the fingertips leeching the warmth from Tobin's arm. Tobin's cheeks color as Christen's face breaks into a small, private smile.

"I don't tend to argue the truth," she says softly. Tobin notices that her nails aren't jagged like the last time they had met.

"Why did you save me?"

"It's what we do," Christen says, thumb sliding along the edge of Tobin's wrist. "I was checking on some friends in the water when I saw the boat. I heard your friend shouting your name and saw you go over. I thought I was going to be too late to make much of a difference, to be honest."

Tobin turns her hand, catching Christen's fingers with her hand. She holds her fingers gently, letting Christen move away if she wants. Christen's cheeks color and Tobin is captivated.

"Lindsay and the whole town knew what you were. It's like I was the only one in the dark," Tobin says, fingers sliding along Christen's palm. The skin is still rough, but not as rough as the first time they had met.

"You're not the only one," Christen says, shrugging. The baggy grey shirt she has follows the motion as Christen's hand closes around Tobin's own. "You kept the bay so safe, we assumed you already knew."

"Oh," Tobin says in surprise as Christen smiles at her, "It's my job," Tobin says, stunned.

"The other merfolk of the bay notice."

"Other merfolk?" Tobin asks, testing out the feeling of the word on her tongue. Christen laughs softly, squeezing Tobin's hand.

"Selkies aren't the only thing that live in the bay, Tobin," Christen says, winking at her. Tobin's heart stutters for a moment at the sound of Christen saying her name so fondly. Christen ducks her head, hair falling over her shoulder as Tobin scoots closer.

Tobin's legs tangle with Christen's and this close, she can smell the salt from Christen's hair. Christen meets her eyes, smiling as she bumps their bare feet together.

"Did your friends tell you what the gifts mean?" Christen asks, reaching over to push a piece of hair Tobin hadn't noticed out of her face. Tobin holds her breath for a moment at the touch before she remembers that she was asked a question.

"Lindsay said it's like we swapped numbers," Tobin says, leaning against the table. Christen laughs as she untangles their fingers to stretch her arm out along Tobin's, scooting her chair closer. Tobin's heart thuds painfully at the closeness.

"Well, she's not entirely wrong. It's like trying to gauge interest," Christen says.

"Oh, so like passing notes as a kid. If you did that," Tobin says as Christen laughs again, this time unrestrained. Her head tosses back as she grins at Tobin.

"I didn't spend all my time in my seal-skin growing up. That was the rule when I was younger. I had to go to school like everybody else," Christen offers as Tobin laughs, ducking her head, cheeks heating up.

"I didn't know," Tobin says, looking back up at Christen's bright, fond smile.

"I'm happy to tell you more," Christen offers, leaning closer. Tobin swallows hard, holding her breath as Christen slides her hand along Tobin's arm and up her bicep. She pauses on the curve of Tobin's shoulder, the touch warming Tobin all over.

"Christen," Tobin murmurs, meeting her eyes. Christen cups Tobin's face gently with her hand, thumb sliding across Tobin's cheekbone. Her other fingers curl into the space behind Tobin's ear, triggering a shiver that crawls down her back.

"Tobin," Christen murmurs, eyes glancing down to Tobin's lips and back up. Her lips curl into a smile as she leans forward, sharing breath for a moment, "Can I kiss you?"

Tobin's breath stutters on a gasp as she nods, pressing their foreheads together. Her eyes flutter shut at the first press of Christen's lips against hers. Their chapped lips catch against one another as Tobin chases the taste of brine on Christen's lips. Christen gasps into the kiss as Tobin swipes her tongue across her lips, begging for entrance as Christen shudders, surrendering to it.

Christen breaks the kiss first, breathing hard as they trade soft kisses back and forth. Tobin pushes Christen's hair back from her face, unable to stop smiling as she presses a few last kisses to Christen's lips. Christen exhales slowly as Tobin huffs out a laugh, sharing a grin with Christen.

"Stay the night?" Tobin whispers in the shared space between their faces. Christen presses a lingering kiss to Tobin's lips, humming softly.

"I'll be gone in the morning," Christen warns, fingers tracing the line of Tobin's jaw. They kiss again, taking their time as Tobin pulls away, smiling a little.

"I'm up early anyways," Tobin says finally. Christen blinks at her before tossing her head back in a laugh. Tobin grins and stands, tugging on Christen's hand.

"I'll stay the night," Christen says, standing and pressing close. Their bodies press flush against the other and Tobin can't stop the gasp that she lets out as Christen kisses her again. Tobin slides her hand under Christen's shirt, hands catching on the smooth skin of her back, warmed from being inside.

"And tomorrow night?" Tobin whispers against Christen's lips. Christen wraps her arms around Tobin's shoulders, holding her close as she smiles softly.

"I'll be here."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come chat with me on tumblr [MayQueen517](https://mayqueen517.tumblr.com/)!


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